


The Release of the Fëanorians from Mandos

by sacredORDINARYdays



Series: Fëanorians Reborn [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: For disruptive behavior, Fëanor is kicked out of Mandos, Námo is so done, Other, The House of Fëanor drive Námo crazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:47:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29362728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacredORDINARYdays/pseuds/sacredORDINARYdays
Summary: Námo was done. He was done. For Six Ages he has persisted, but no more. Ever since Fëanor had stepped foot into his halls there had not been a day of peace. How Námo had managed to keep (most) of his sanity was beyond even himself.orNámo is fed up with the House of Fëanor, and bullies Manwë into letting them be reborn.
Relationships: Elbereth Gilthoniel | Varda Elentári/Manwë Súlimo, Fëanor | Curufinwë & Námo | Mandos
Series: Fëanorians Reborn [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2156931
Kudos: 22





	The Release of the Fëanorians from Mandos

Námo was done. He was done. For Six Ages he had persisted, but no more. Ever since Fëanor had stepped foot into his halls there had not been a day of peace. How Námo had managed to keep (most) of his sanity was beyond even himself.

It only got worse once Maglor finally joined the rest of the family. Futilely, he had hoped that perhaps Celebrimbor might speak some sense into the rest of them. He did not. In fact, he joined them wholeheartedly in their endeavors to drive Námo to insanity. But no more. Today was the day that they leave and never return. Námo would do all he could to ensure that.

Who cares if he said that Fëanor would not leave the Halls of Awaiting until Dagor Dagorath? Certainly not him. Not anymore. Goodness knows how Finwë managed to survive with those nine _heathens._

It was always _Námo this, Námo that, Námo my father would've, Námo my father could've, Námo my brothers did this, Námo my cousins did that._

It drove him _insane!_

Not only that, but by the end of the Third Age, the entire House of Feanor decided that it would be most wonderful to destroy the sanctity of his beloved Halls!

Soon, seeing graffiti on every corner became normal. For Six Ages had he endured this torment, but today Fëanor and his accursed family would be leaving, even if it meant Námo had to go against the rest of his brethren.

He burst into Manwë's Halls, and strode purposefully toward the throne. Manwë and Varda looked shocked, with due reason. Námo was not someone to barge in unannounced.

"I. Want. Them. Gone," Námo grit out, trying to keep his composure. Manwë, genuinely confused, asked who Námo was referring to. Bad idea #1.

"THOSE DRATTED PESTS! THOSE NINE HELLIONS RUINING MY HALLS! THOSE SPAWNS OF UNGOLIANT!" Námo shouted.

Manwë, terribly lost, managed to questioned "Who?"

"The House of Fëanor," Námo said, a bit more calmly (at least, on the outside).

Oromë, summoned by the noise, peeked in through the doorway, saw the look of single-minded determination and rage on Námo's face, and decided that he would sit this one out. Námo was terribly scary sometimes.

Tulkas said it was because he hung out with too many dead people.

"But I thought you said that Fëanor would not be released until Dagor Dagorath?" Varda inquired, looking cautious.

"I don't care anymore! Get them out! They drive me _crazy!_ _SIX AGES_ I have suffered in their presence. Every hour of every day! For SIX AGES!"

"Every _hour_? Surely you exaggerate? They must rest sometime," Manwë, who finally recovered his wits, asked, skeptical. Bad idea #2.

"THEY DON'T NEED TO REST! _THEY'RE DEAD!"_ Námo screeched.

Manwë and Varda covered their ears.

Truly, the lord of the Halls of Mandos could reach a terrifying frequency when in distress.

Poor Manwë and Varda, clutching each other in fear, gave a stuttered approval for the rebirth of Fëanor and his descendants.

All of a sudden, Námo's attitude completely changed. He gave a sweet smile and demurely thanked his two fellow Valar. He looked like the most innocent creature on the planet.

Námo bid his dear friends an excellent week and walked politely out of the doors. Oromë, watching from the sidelines, whistled and said

"And they call me the temperamental one."

Námo hummed all the way back to the Halls, deciding that today was most undoubtedly, the happiest day of his (rather long) life.


End file.
